


The New House On Tewkesbury St.

by WinnerEveryTime



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domesticity, Fake/Pretend Marriage, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Podfic Welcome, tags will be added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinnerEveryTime/pseuds/WinnerEveryTime
Summary: Prompt: What if Aziraphale and Crowley figured out that Warlock was the wrong kid early on and moved in next to the Youngs to become Adam’s gay, married, babysitters.





	The New House On Tewkesbury St.

It was not Deirdre that spotted it, nor little Adam, but rather Mr. Young instead. Where once there was a small space between one red brick house and another, a brand new home sprung up seemingly over night. If you ask, he will swear by it. And swear by it under his breath he did one day while walking with Deirdre as she pushed Adam in the stroller.

“I swear there wasn’t a house there yesterday.” He muttered to himself.

“What’s that?” Deirdre asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Oh, nothing love. I just could have sworn that house wasn’t there the last time I looked.” He said to his wife. They had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

“What house?” She said and eyed the tops of rectangular brick homes over the fence. 

“That one.” Mr. Young said. 

As if by magic, the moment his finger pointed towards the space between a home with an apple tree and lots of children’s toys scattered around the lawn and a home with a brand new porch and lights dangling from the house to the nearest tree, a brand new home appeared right before her eyes as if it had always been there and she just hadn’t been looking hard enough. Taken back, she blinked and shook her head quickly. Then looked at it again and this time her expression morphed into that of acceptance of what she was seeing.

“Well of course there’s a new home- they’ve been building here for ages. I’m glad they’re done, now we’ve got Adam to worry about waking up from all the noise that was there during it’s construction.” She said with a smile and continued to stroll on like she had before. As if everything was in order. As if nothing had changed.

Mr. Young watched her go with one eyebrow raised. He decided to follow her anyway. No use dwelling on things you can’t explain.

Speaking of things you can’t explain; the house. It’s somehow made of three types of building material. Brick both black and red and then white stucco, all of it unevenly meshing together like a rip in paper revealing a different type of paper beneath. 

Poison ivy vines creep elegantly across the surface of the house, and the yard blooms with bushes and flowers voluminous and untamed in tropical and native varieties. 

There are rose bushes aplenty in salmon, yellow, and baby pink. Lavender in a window box with white and purple spotted pea flowers below. Bleeding hearts swooning over a pond with high grass and blue wildflowers. Even banana leaves with bushels of curved yellow fruit, which Mr. Young does not know enough about gardening to dispute this, but he’s sure banana trees aren’t supposed to grow in England. It’s lovely. It’s nothing like any other house on the block.

How a house of such grandeur went unnoticed before today, Mr. Young could hardly fathom. But then again, Mr. Young can’t fathom even simple things, like how the universe works or why teenagers must be loud. And so it came to be that on the same road as the Youngs, the Fell-Crowleys happily settled in to a new home on Tewkesbury street.


End file.
